


Yule Hearth

by mabyn



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-15
Updated: 2013-12-15
Packaged: 2018-01-04 17:43:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1083834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mabyn/pseuds/mabyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yule celebrations are forbidden in Camelot and Arthur is expected to uphold his father's laws. That means a long winter night passed in darkness while the rest of Camelot celebrates in secret. Arthur just wishes Merlin would stay with him. Canon AU, Yule, Holidays, Romance (Merlin/Arthur)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yule Hearth

"My father should never have outlawed the Yuletide celebration." There. He'd said it out loud. It was the first time Arthur had spoken out against his father's laws, even if it was only to Merlin and only after they'd both overindulged in ale, in a backwoods tavern far from Camelot's spies.

Merlin studied his tankard. In spite of playing the fool so convincingly, Merlin could be even more cautious and diplomatic than Uther's head court advisor. That was part of why Arthur had grown to trust him so much in the last year.

"The commoners miss it, I think, although of course as a festivity of the Old Religion, your father had no choice but to ban it." Merlin took a sip of ale and carefully avoided Arthur's eyes.

"I'm certain Yule has never caused anyone harm," Arthur insisted. Through much teasing and roughhousing, Arthur had encouraged the idea that they were friends rather than master and servant, and Merlin had gradually relaxed enough in Arthur's presence to tell him what he really thought, if Arthur created the space for it. "When I was a young boy, my father brought me with him on a diplomatic mission to another kingdom. The winter solstice was celebrated there, and I'll never forget how bright and warm the fire was, or how happy the people were dancing to the musician's tunes. It was the only time I can remember being held in my father's arms." Arthur paused over the memory. In the years since, his father had become such a hard man. "Besides, I think it appropriate to mark the passing of the darkest night of the year, don't you?"

"The decorations, the burning of the Yule log in the hearth, the feasting—it's true they make the winter easier to bear." Excitement sparkled in Merlin's eyes in spite of his even tone. "It's not illegal everywhere, you know. That's why—" Merlin hesitated, pursing his lips together as he did whenever he was about to say something displeasing to Arthur. "I've decided to go back to Ealdor for the season. It will be good to spend some time with my mother."

"Oh," Arthur said, surprised. He dismissed as irrational the sharp pang in his stomach, as if Merlin had somehow betrayed him. He cared more than he should what Merlin did when they were apart, and it had only grown worse since that one time he'd taken Merlin into his tent on a hunting expedition—an indiscretion that had never been repeated. He fought to keep his tone light. "And were you going to seek my permission for this little adventure, or are you as usual planning to do as you like without concern for your master's wishes?"

Merlin grinned. "Well, you're always prattling on about how useless I am. I hardly thought you would miss me."

"Of course not," Arthur said quickly. "You may visit your mother—take as long as you like."

"Wonderful," said Merlin, throwing back another draught. "It's settled, then."

Perhaps he allowed Merlin to get away with too much, but if he did, Arthur had no one to blame but himself. Now not only would he endure yet another gloomy Yule while those in the outlying villages enjoyed their secret celebrations, but he'd be spending it alone.

Well, not really alone, Arthur reassured himself. After all, he did have his father.

*

"Execute him at sunrise."

Arthur's stomach sank as the suspected sorcerer was dragged screaming from the hall. Another pointless death, but nothing seemed to sate his father's appetite for blood. Across the room standing ready to serve him, Merlin's face was ashen with horror, but when he caught Arthur looking at him, he straightened and raised his eyebrows in sympathy. Merlin seemed to understand how much Arthur loathed his father's twisted sense of justice, but there was nothing either one of them could do to stop him.

His father turned back to him. "You have much to learn about ruling a kingdom. Every day sees a new sorcerer brought to justice, and still you insist on undermining my authority. The people would see such a feast for what it truly was."

"Father, surely a modest feast to indulge the people will do no harm. It need not be associated with the Old Religion. We could call it the Feast of Camelot." Every night the sky grew darker earlier, and Arthur had noticed a lethargy about himself echoed in the slumped posture of everyone he knew. The solstice could be no more than a week away. A feast seemed such a little thing.

His father's hard expression brooked no dissent. "We've exhausted this subject. I must prepare myself to greet the embassy from Mercia."

Arthur rose, then followed his father obediently out of the hall. He was impossible.

"You tried," Merlin whispered, coming into line behind him. "You know, you could always accompany me to Ealdor."

Arthur spoke under his breath so no one would overhear them. "Are you daft? Celebrate an illegal holiday at the home of a peasant?"

"You arrogant, conceited, supercilious—"

"Merlin, if you continue you will find yourself in the stocks," Arthur warned, although he secretly enjoyed Merlin's insults. Merlin was one of the few people who didn't lick his boots just to receive the notice of the court. Merlin always told him what he thought, whether it would please Arthur or not. It made him feel like a normal person.

"Ah, Morgana," Arthur called out as his father's ward swept through the corridor in a lush blue dress, her maid Gwen a few steps behind her. Today he was particularly pleased to see her; Morgana's contrary nature would make her a certain ally. "Will you be doing anything to mark the solstice?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Morgana laughed, a little too hard. "Gwen and I will be keeping to my chambers. What else would we be doing?"

"Of course," Arthur nodded, hiding his disappointment that she seemed of the same mind as his father, and set about correcting his mistake. As the king's son, everyone, even Morgana, would expect him to regard the Yule with suspicion. "I will have someone sent up to ensure your safety."

"That won't be necessary," Morgana said, gazing down her nose at him. "Come along, Gwen." The two scurried away.

Arthur ignored Merlin's pitying look.

Upon rounding the corner a band of his knights talking animatedly together, came into view. "Hey, you lot!" Arthur called out. Surely the brawny crew had some revelry planned for solstice, and although drunken escapades weren't something he usually went in for, it would be better than the alternative. "Fancy going to the tavern for some ale next week?"

The knights froze.

"Erm," Gwaine spoke up at length, "next week, eh? I think we have a mission in one of the outlying villages, isn't that right, lads?"

The other knights bobbed their heads so vigorously Arthur feared they might damage their brains. His own men were eager to be rid of him for Yule.

"Alright, then, carry on." Arthur slapped Gwaine on the back, and took to the stairs. Behind him, the sound of Merlin's footsteps on the cold stone floor assured him he was following.

"Still planning to return to Ealdor for Yule?" Arthur asked when they were safely in his chambers. He removed his heavy red coat and handed it out for Merlin to take.

"Yep," Merlin said, scooping up the coat and adjusting Arthur's collar.

"When are you leaving, then?"

"A few days before. I can reach the village in a day if I don't stop to rest. Shall I prepare a bath for you, sire?"

"That would be fine." Arthur sat down at his table to wait. He was looking forward to sliding his weary limbs into the steaming water with Merlin there to wash him clean.

As he waited for Merlin to prepare the bath, he drummed his fingers on the tabletop. Just for a moment, he wondered what it would be like to be one of the common people, free to do what he wished without the scrutiny of the kingdom. Free to celebrate the solstice as the villagers would in spite of the king's decrees. Free, even, to marry whom he liked, instead of being traded like an asset for the good of the kingdom.

Merlin burst back through the door, balancing two buckets of steaming water over his shoulders. He was skinny, Arthur thought, but much stronger than he looked. Two other servants followed close behind with additional buckets.

"All right, then, Arthur, we're just about ready." The water was poured into the bath, and the other servants disappeared, leaving Arthur alone with Merlin.

"You needed all this help? Honestly, you're the most useless servant I ever had," said Arthur with a smile. As he shed his clothes, Merlin's eyes flickered over his naked body.

"If I'm so useless, then you can scrub yourself," Merlin retorted, holding out the washcloth.

Arthur ignored the invitation and stepped into the water. His toes were so cold the heat scorched, and he pulled back.

"Don't be such a girl, Arthur," Merlin said behind him.

Arthur gritted his teeth and sank his body all the way in, then gave Merlin a look of irritation. Merlin, however, just smiled to himself as he got to work, scrubbing Arthur's body with the cloth. He poured some herbal concoction Gaius had made onto Arthur's hair and washed it. In spite of Arthur's protests, he had to admit it smelled rather nice. Merlin's clever hands and the heat of the water loosened his muscles, and Arthur found himself relaxing against the side.

"Maybe you should stay in Camelot," he murmured. "Celebrate with me." The truth was that as stupid as it seemed, he couldn't imagine anyone he'd rather spend Yule with more. There was a brief pause in the progress of the sponge over his body before it resumed its path.

"Mm, I'd like to. But my mother is expecting me now."

Arthur nodded. "Of course." He sat up a little straighter. Merlin leaned more of his weight over Arthur's shoulder as he washed his belly. He smelled musty like the stables he'd cleaned earlier, and a little of stale sweat. He was the only servant who'd dared put himself so close to Arthur, even while bathing him.

"Is it really necessary to wipe your dirty body all over mine? I swear, as soon as you have me clean you go mucking me up again," Arthur said, feigning more annoyance than he felt.

"Sorry." Merlin scooted around to the side of the basin where he could wash Arthur without otherwise touching him. He scrubbed his thighs, and then gently lifted his prick and pulled the skin back to reveal the head. Arthur watched Merlin clean him, his soft brown hair curling over his forehead. He was lovely. Arthur felt himself start to harden.

"I'll do that," Arthur said, pushing Merlin's hand aside. He finished cleaning himself and stood, nearly stumbling when he reached out to grab the towel from Merlin.

"Do you wish to dry yourself today, sire?" Merlin asked. Arthur didn't miss the note of disappointment in his voice.

"Yes, that will be all," Arthur said, refusing to look at him.

Predictably, rather than take his leave as most servants would, Merlin murmured "Good night, Arthur," as if they were intimates, and it made Arthur's blood run hot beneath his skin, although he thought to himself it could as easily be the heat from the bath.

"Good night, Merlin."

*

Merlin did not say good-bye when he left for Ealdor. Arthur learned secondhand from Gaius that Merlin had departed at earliest light and would return the following week. He'd known Merlin would be spending Yule with his mother, but somehow now that he was gone Arthur felt even more alone than he usually did. It was ridiculous, he told himself; he was the prince of Camelot, and Merlin a mere servant. It was the cold weather, the grey sky, that was affecting him this way.

In a few days it would be Yule, and while the common people were celebrating in their homes, and Morgana was passing the night with Gwen, and the knights were enjoying their revels, Arthur would be trapped in his chambers, upholding his father's laws.

"You look terrible," Uther said at the midday meal.

Arthur shoved a potato into his mouth. "Thanks."

"Don't tell me you're still upset because I won't condone a sorcerers' feast."

"It has nothing to do with that. I just feel out of sorts," Arthur said in irritation. "Maybe a hunt would do me good."

"A splendid idea," his father agreed. He summoned the serving boy. "I will have more stew."

*

Early in the evening of the winter solstice, Arthur slogged back to the castle through the thickening snow with nothing to show for his efforts. The hunting trip had been in vain; the wild animals which were so abundant in the autumn had turned scarce now in the cold, and the one boar they'd seen had eluded both his spear and his knight's arrow. Weariness spread through his limbs, and far from dream of revelry this evening, Arthur wanted nothing more than to sleep.

"Until tomorrow, Leon," Arthur muttered as he took the first of the many steps leading to his chambers.

"Sleep well, sire," Leon said, slapping him on the shoulder.

The castle was nearly as cold as it was outside, and wind howled through the narrow windows of the stair, extinguishing the scant light from a mounted torch. It was indeed the darkest night of the year, and here in the heart of Camelot, there was no respite from the blackness.

It was dead silent in Arthur's wing of the castle, particularly at this hour when there was little chance of a servant coming by to fulfil their duties. Even his own breathing seemed to echo. He stood outside his chambers loathing the idea of shutting himself inside. With Merlin gone and his own unwise refusal to replace him with another servant for his nightly duties, Arthur would have to prepare himself for bed. He thought of the cold sheets against his skin and shivered.

A loud clang from his chambers shattered the silence. Arthur's hand dropped to the handle of the dagger he always kept in his belt. His muscles tensed. Had someone, anticipating he'd be away all night revelling, intruded into his chambers for some vile purpose? If so, surprise would be his ally. He put his ear to the door but heard nothing more.

Arthur turned the lock with a cautious hand and pushed the door open.

"Halt, villain!" he cried, preparing to hurl the blade.

"Wait!"

Impossibly, it was Merlin standing in front of him, or rather, crouched down on the floor mopping up the wine he'd spilled.

"Don't worry. I brought another flask," Merlin said with a grin, not in the least disturbed that Arthur had nearly struck him dead.

Arthur slowly closed the door behind him and tried not to gape. His chambers were transformed. Loaves of bread, a a roasted bird, and countless other dishes filled the table so completely he could not see the wood beneath. Boughs of holly were draped festively over the chairs, and around the room a bounty of candles pierced the darkness with flickering points of light. In the hearth burned the brightest fire Merlin had ever built him, and it radiated a warmth that transformed Arthur's despair into hopefulness.

"What are you doing here?"

"I was planning to return to Ealdor—are you going to sit down?" Merlin asked as he finished mopping up. "But then you looked so miserable about the thought of spending Yule alone, and well, I just couldn't leave. I sent word to my mother that I'd visit in the new year, and decided to celebrate Yule with you."

"Hmm," Arthur frowned, taking his customary seat at the head of the table. Had he appeared that wretched? "I don't want your pity."

Merlin poured him wine and served him, just as he always did. "It wasn't just that. I… I wanted to stay, too," he said, almost shy.

"But where have you been these past few days?" Arthur asked, taking a sip of wine.

Merlin heaped his plate with food and sat down at the other end of the table, as if they were equals in rank. He ate hungrily. Arthur wondered how long he had been preparing this, and when the last time he'd eaten was. "I was hoping to surprise you, so I've been out purchasing all the food and decorations, and Cook had me in the kitchen for nearly two days getting everything ready—she helped me only a little."

Arthur softened. "Wow. You did all this yourself?"

"My daily duties are far more time-consuming, I assure you. Cleaning the muck out of the stables, washing your bath—"

"Ok, Merlin. Best stop while you're ahead, hm?" In spite of his chastising tone, a warm affection was growing.

Merlin flushed. "Of course, sire."

After they both had eaten their fill and consumed more wine that was proper, Arthur relaxed back against the chair and gave himself permission to admire the sharp angles of Merlin's face. There was so little time left to look at him. Their conversation had waned into a comfortable silence, but a silence that nonetheless indicated the evening was drawing to a close. Merlin dropped his napkin onto his plate and shifted in his chair. Most nights, this would be when Arthur would dismiss him.

Only now, gazing at Merlin's pretty face, pink from the warmth of the room and the wine, and thinking how hard Merlin had laboured to make him happy, Arthur felt a pang in his chest.

"You don't have to leave," he said. Only someone who knew him well would be able to detect the note of weakness in his voice, which otherwise sounded as authoritative as usual.

Merlin looked confused, as if he didn't know whether to pile up the dishes to return to the kitchens or continue relaxing at the table like a nobleman might. The latter must be terribly foreign to him. If Arthur wanted him to stay, he would have to take matters into his own hands.

"Come on," he said, rising from his seat and hauling Merlin by the arm over to the luxurious rug in front of the hearth.

"What are—" Merlin began, but quieted when Arthur guided him to sit on the rug. Arthur himself then sprawled out beside him, resting his head against Merlin's chest in a pose far more intimate than they were accustomed to. Beneath him Merlin's muscles were tense, as if he was still struggling to figure out how to handle this shift in their relations.

It wasn't altogether new, of course. The night they had shared together so many moons ago had begun in a not dissimilar pose: after five nights of being Merlin's bedmate in camp, Arthur had longed to have him. He'd positioned himself against Merlin's shaking body with a proximity that was less than subtle, and in the deep darkness of the woods it was easy to pretend that Merlin wasn't Merlin and Arthur wasn't Arthur, and rather than a prince with his servant, they were simply two lonely men seeking comfort in each other's arms.

Still, there was no pretending now in the walls of Arthur's opulent chambers with the light from the fire illuminating their faces. Their time in the tent had been a rough, confused tumble with Arthur fumbling to unravel what he wanted even while he was taking it, but since then he'd had ample time to watch Merlin and explore his desires at length, and what Merlin had done for him tonight revealed his loyalty went far beyond a servant's to his master, but rather something like friendship, or even adoration. It removed any of Arthur's remaining doubts, and now the only thing he wanted was for Merlin to take down any last barriers between them.

But he could be patient.

Arthur lay watching the dancing flames until both their heartbeats calmed, and it seemed perfectly natural when he felt Merlin's lips in his hair. He didn't dare move for fear of startling Merlin, and for his good behaviour was rewarded with the touch of Merlin hands, which first lightly glanced over his shoulders, but then explored his body more authoritatively as if Arthur were his and Merlin had a right to him. Arthur sank back into him.

"Did you enjoy your Yule?" Merlin broke the silence, his voice husky.

"It's been a long while since I felt so cared for," Arthur admitted. He grabbed a sprig of holly that had come apart from the decorations and threaded it through Merlin's thick hair. He paused to admire it; like this Merlin almost looked a prince of old, but he quickly dismissed the thought.

Merlin's hands paused. "Nonsense," he said with a lightness of tone that failed to persuade Arthur, "I care for you every day."

"Yes, but as a servant must," Arthur said. They were getting into dangerous territory. He paused, then quickly shifted the focus of their conversation back to the holiday. "In the future you won't need to do all this. When I'm king, people will be able to celebrate Yule openly without fear of reprisal."

"We will all be more than grateful," Merlin said. There was a formal politeness about his reply that betrayed how much he had left unspoken, but when Arthur waited patiently for him to finish Merlin offered nothing further. Still, Arthur was not a fool, and he had noticed all the little signs Merlin gave when he disapproved of one of Uther's decisions, and Arthur himself was not blind to the injustice of many of his father's policies, injustices that reached far beyond outlawing a holiday. They were injustices for which the forbidding of Yule was a symbolic reminder to the people. Arthur turned his head so he could hear the beating of Merlin's heart, and as he did, Merlin's lips followed a new path down to his ear, pausing just before they reached it. Merlin always believed him to be far better of a man than he was.

"That will be only the beginning. Restoring the Yule celebrations is the very least I shall do," Arthur said with conviction, the weight of his promise settling like a heavy armour that would protect him in the long fight ahead.

"Yes," Merlin whispered after the meaning of the words had become almost a living thing between them. His voice had turned tremulous and vibrated through Arthur's body when he spoke. "I believe you will, my king."

Arthur raised his face then, and was struck by how close Merlin's was to his. It would require very little to bring them together, but Arthur held himself still, savouring the intimacy he so rarely enjoyed.

Merlin was the first to move. He cradled Arthur's face in his hand and slid their lips together. In spite of their night together in the woods, they had never kissed before. Merlin's lips were plump and softer than Arthur had imagined, and he had often imagined. Arthur threaded his fingers through Merlin's dense curls and pulled him lower until he was close enough that they might comfortably drown in each other. He wondered absently if it would end here, with this kiss, if he _should_ end it here before things became complicated for both of them. But by then Merlin's scent had begun to intoxicate him, and his good judgment was rapidly disappearing.

Worse, having discovered Arthur to be open to his advances, Merlin had begun to take control of the kiss. With as much capability as when he dressed and undressed him during his serving duties, Merlin explored his body with confident hands, and when he reached the downward swell of Arthur's belly, he unlaced his breeches with careful deliberation. Arthur held his breath in anticipation, but he did not have long to wait: Merlin drew out his prick, and it was with an altogether different intention than when he pulled back the foreskin and gently cleaned it in the bath. This Merlin was all rough demand, and Arthur's cock grew eagerly in his hands.

"Have you taken anyone else to your bed since me?" Merlin whispered into his mouth.

Arthur's cock hardened at the possessive implication of Merlin's words. "N-no," he stammered, grateful that he had not.

His answer seemed to please Merlin, who kissed him with renewed passion as he pressed Arthur down until he was fully laid out on the rug. Merlin's arms came around him, and for the first time in so long, he felt safe and protected. Besides Merlin, no one ever touched his person; even Morgana had long since ceased to hold his hand as she had when they were children. The closest he got to other men was the clash of swords in battle, and Arthur had no taste for whoring. Now, Arthur nearly purred under Merlin's ministrations. There was a new pleasure in relaxing his body into compliance as Merlin undressed him and put his mouth wherever he pleased, and Arthur turned impatient only when Merlin failed to get naked quickly enough.

"You just returned from the hunt," Merlin said. His mouth being preoccupied with Arthur's nipple, it was no surprise the words came out muffled. He licked closer to Arthur's armpit. "Did you run very much?"

"Yes," Arthur answered.

Merlin pushed Arthur's arm over his head and sniffed at the damp hair he uncovered. "I can smell it."

Arthur felt the flush in his cheeks spread to his chest. "Perhaps I should bathe."

"No, I like you this way." When Merlin kissed him again, Arthur tasted his own sweat on Merlin's tongue, dark and musky from his exertions in the woods. "I'm the only one who knows this part of you."

"Yes, only you," Arthur agreed, eager to please him.

They kissed and rocked against each other until Arthur could not endure the wait. He longed to join their bodies together and make them one. The strength of his lust had first driven him to Merlin's arms all those moons ago, but now, after all Merlin had done for him in the time since, it was much more than that. Most men dropped in Arthur's estimation the longer he knew them; Merlin had only risen, and he'd carved out a seat in Arthur's heart that would not easily be supplanted.

As if sensing his hunger, Merlin gently turned Arthur onto his stomach and parted his thighs, then with slicked fingers teased open his entrance. The intrusion sent a heady rush of pleasure to Arthur's head, and seeking friction, he undulated his hips against the rug. The blaze of the fire heated his naked skin.

Merlin lay down beside him. "Will you give yourself to me again, the way you did that night?"

Arthur remembered with longing the way Merlin had felt inside him, how fucked out he'd been after Merlin had spent deep in his body. He nodded into the rug and moaned, shifting his hips back. Merlin's skin was hot against his, keeping him warm on this long and dark night, and he caressed Arthur's hair to calm him.

He was just as gentle as he prepared Arthur's body for him, the slow stretch almost as good as the fulfilment promised to be. Every touch reminded Arthur he was not alone; every tender kiss a gesture of his faithfulness. Nor did Merlin flinch when Arthur revealed his vulnerability and permitted Merlin to see how undone he was becoming. His father had never endured even a hint of weakness, striking him in punishment when he'd been young and shaming him with cruel words as he aged. In contrast, the more Arthur yielded, the more sweet Merlin became, gathering Arthur's fragility as if it were a precious thing.

But Merlin wasn't all patience. Merlin worked in two fingers, then three, and the hardness pressed against his arse reminded him what Merlin desired. Arthur turned hot as Merlin moulded Arthur's body to sheath him. After how long Merlin had cared for him as servant, it felt right and good to be so transformed, to be the one whom Merlin would take his pleasure in. There was no one else Arthur would entrust himself to.

When Merlin finally pushed his cock past the tight ring of muscle, Arthur realised how much more open Merlin needed him to be. He struggled to relax himself, thrust back into the pain until Merlin soothed him with quiet words in his ear, telling him they had all night; they could go slow; he liked this part, wanted to experience every degree of their gradual union.

Merlin fucked him slow and long. Arthur had gone breathless by the end; his heart raw and aching with something that seemed to be both bliss and loss at the same time. When Merlin finally filled him with his spend, Arthur was near wild to receive him, and as he came Merlin groaned and told him to never leave him again. Arthur was beyond coherency himself, and attributed Merlin's murmurings as the frantic words of a man on the cusp of pleasure, for Arthur had never left Merlin, and never would.

Once his body had stilled, Merlin dragged Arthur over onto his side and slipped his hand around his belly. Wrapping his hand around Arthur's cock, Merlin jerked him with firm strokes. Arthur was too far gone to last, and when Merlin told him to come he spilled over Merlin's fingers in violent spasms that shook him to the core. Merlin brushed his damp hair from his forehead and kissed him behind the ear. As he drifted off, Arthur watched the flames dance across the Yule log in the hearth, sated.

*

The next morning Arthur felt around for Merlin beside him in the bed, but the sheets were cold as they always were. He was alone. He buried his face into the pillow, and Merlin's demand Arthur not leave him again echoed in his mind. Unable to fall back asleep, Arthur sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes.

There was no evidence of the feast they had eaten last night. The table had been cleared and newly laden with fruit. The ashes from the fire had been swept up and the hearth was cold. Not one bough of holly was left behind to brighten the dullness of his chambers. If not for the sweet soreness of his body, Arthur might have been tempted to think the whole thing a dream.

A quick knock came at the door and Merlin entered. He was all business as he approached the bed.

"Good morning, sire. Shall I dress you?" he asked, deflecting his eyes in the manner of a proper servant even though such deference was rare for him. To be treated so coldly, especially now, cut Arthur to the quick.

Until last night, Arthur had never sought to repeat their intimacy on the hunting trip, for fear Merlin might think him the kind of cruel master who took advantage of his servants. But had Merlin—was it possible?—interpreted his restraint for rejection? A terrible dread filled him. _Don't leave me again._

"Merlin, where is everything from last night's feast?"

"I cleaned it, sire," Merlin responded, unable to veil the distress in his voice. His cheeks were flushed. "I felt you might not wish to look upon it when you woke."

Arthur caught sight of something green next to his pillow. It was the sprig of holly he'd adorned Merlin's hair with.

"Then you were wrong. Not to mention ridiculous, pig-headed, and—" Arthur pulled Merlin down to the bed and folded him into his chest, "perfectly wonderful."

Merlin was suddenly laughing, his nervous manner evaporating as quickly as it had appeared. "You haven't changed your mind, then?" he asked.

"Don't be daft," Arthur said. He threaded the sprig of holly through Merlin's hair again and kissed him. "I never will."


End file.
